


All That Jazz

by indigovioletstargazer



Category: Homeland
Genre: Angst, Awkward Crush, Central Intelligence Agency, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Falling In Love, Love/Hate, Romance, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2955944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigovioletstargazer/pseuds/indigovioletstargazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't dance to jazz... I drink to jazz." Carrie snatched Aasar's glass and downed the contents, grimacing. "Oh f----, that's straight lemonade."</p><p>Homeland. Post S4. Multi-chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Straight Lemonade

Carrie grabbed another flute of champagne from the passing waiter's tray and downed it in two gulps. She stood alone, bitterly observing the others networking at Saul's impromptu soirée to celebrate his reinstatement as Director of the CIA.

It was a small, select group of guests. Saul hadn't expected Carrie to accept the invitation, but she'd purposefully turned up to make him feel as uncomfortable as possible. To remind him of the thirty six people who had died at the Embassy in Islamabad.

That motherfucking _traitor_ Dar Adal was still swanning around like the hero of the hour. The unlikely broker of a deal that meant Haqqani's name would be off the US kill list as long as he didn't harbour terrorists in Afghanistan. It was all bullshit of course. A smokescreen for the real deal which was Dar Adal obtaining the only video of a humiliated and bedraggled Saul. Two old mates helping each other out in times of trouble. _No matter what price had to be paid._

Across the room Carrie watched the musicians pick up their instruments. She smiled to herself. A jazz band. _Decent choice Saul._ Unlikely for her benefit, but some temporary relief nonetheless. Time for another drink. She smiled in the direction of the nearest waiter.

…

"Carrie?" She felt warm fingertips brush sensuously over her shoulder blade. Her heart leaped.

"Quinn? Oh…" She spun around and spilled some of her drink. "Aasar? What are you doing here?!"

"Looking for you." Aasar Khan swallowed, struggling to maintain his cool reserve. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"W-What?!" Carrie stuttered, gobsmacked to see him. "Why would I avoid you? I didn't know you were here! What are you doing in the United States?"

"It's my last night here." Aasar glanced sideways and whispered. "I was hoping to see you before now, but you weren't at any of the meetings."

"Meetings? What meetings?" Carrie glared. "Who else is here from Pakistan?"

"Just General Latif," Aasar gestured across the room. "Or should I say _Bunny._ "

"What meetings?" Carrie repeated feeling her bile rising. "What fucked up deal is Dar Adal instigating now?"

"Carrie, you'll have to ask Saul." Aasar shuffled uneasily. "I'm really not at liberty to say too much."

"Where's Tasneem? Is that _bitch_ here?" Carrie seethed. "What about Haqqani? Is he here too? You ISI lot are protecting him now aren't you?"

"All I can say is things are happening…" Aasar looked shifty. "Saul wants to put things right. Changes are afoot in Pakistan."

"I don't believe you," Carrie trembled. "Actually I don't fucking care. I lost thirty six colleagues… Friends…"

"I know." Aasar touched her hand and looked as sad as she felt. "I want justice too."

…

They stood awkwardly together, their silence uneasy, watching the small groups. Conversations ebbed and flowed around them. Dar Adal and Bunny appeared to be bickering in a corner. Saul was sat at a table and deep in conversation with Martha. Mira was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you dance?" Aasar's question came out of the blue.

"You're joking," Carrie laughed at him. "To jazz?"

"Sure," Aasar smiled. "The band is great don't you think?"

"I don't _dance_ to jazz… I _drink_ to jazz." Carrie snatched Aasar's glass and downed the contents, grimacing. "Oh fuck, that's straight lemonade."

"I don't drink alcohol," Aasar shrugged. "Sorry."

"You should," Carrie snorted. "It'd be good for you."

"Why?" Aasar arched an eyebrow.

"Might help you loosen up a bit," Carrie chuckled. "You're always so formal…even without the uniform. Always such a Military stiff."

Aasar's lips twitched with amusement. "You're the one who won't dance and have fun here!"

"Dancing in front of this lot is not my idea of fun."

"What is?" Aasar's reply was quick. Too quick. Eager.

"I'm here because I'm angry at Saul," Carrie surveyed him uncertainly. "I'm not here for fun."

"Shame," Aasar shrugged nonchalantly. "We could have had fun over in Islamabad. I know the best places to party. Heard there's a few round here too…"

Carrie studied him. Intrigued. _Aasar likes to party?_ "Let's get out of here," She clutched his elbow. "I've had enough. All this political maneuvering and bullshit."

"Me too." Aasar's dark eyes aligned with hers. "I'll call my driver to fetch the car."

…

In the darkness of the back seat of his SUV. Carrie leant across to Aasar and whispered flirtatiously. "Are you married?"

"No of course not," Aasar sounded irritated.

"A confirmed bachelor?" Carrie teased.

"No… I was engaged," Aasar spoke softly. "She… died."

"Shit," Carrie floundered. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me about Brody?" Aasar diverted the conversation sharply.

"He was my…" Carrie paused. _Love of my life? Asset I sent to his death?_ "He's the father of my baby girl."

"I've seen her. Cute kid," Aasar nodded. "Tasneem had a photo from Dennis."

"What?" Carrie exploded. "You should have told me!"

"I told you Dennis was working against you." Aasar held up his hands.

"Is my baby safe?" Carrie trembled with rage. "Or are the ISI planning to poison her too. Is that what you're doing here?"

"Carrie. Tasneem does not have the capability to attack anyone in the United States." Aasar reached for her hand. "All I know is Tasneem had Dennis switch your meds hoping you'd be sent home from Islamabad. That was the extent of her plan. Nothing malicious involving your family."

"Well, geez, _thanks_ Aasar," Carrie snatched her hand back. "That's so reasurring."

"I would never let anyone harm you or Franny."

Carrie paused, "How do you know her name?"

"I…" Aasar reached again and tried to stroke Carrie's wrist. "I did some research. I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" Carrie spat, pushing him away.

"And Franny. I know whose daughter she is. I know who Nicholas Brody is."

Carrie glared at him defiantly, "You don't know the half of it."

"I know everything." Aasar sounded nervous. "I know Brody was a sacrifice to get Majid Javadi into power in Iran… I know how these things work… CIA Assets inside foreign governments."

"Well, I know you're not an Asset," Carrie snorted. "I'd have been your handler in Islamabad if you were."

"Is that right?" Aasar growled.

"Oh, am I wrong?" Carrie raised an eyebrow. "So let's get this straight… you know everything about me… my daughter's name… her father's name, but I know nothing about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"What are you doing here?" demanded Carrie.

"To help put things right in Pakistan."

"Oh spare me Saul Berenson's bullshit," Carrie griped. "I know your type."

"What type is that?" Aasar winced.

"Men who sacrifice their morals for political ambition."

"Morals? Let's talk about the morality of drone strikes," Aasar rolled his eyes. "You know the statistics."

"Collateral damage," Carrie huffed. "If my morals are so questionable why did you help me in Pakistan?"

"I respected you. You were trying to do the right thing," Aasar explained. "Neither of us wanted to see Haqqani taking control."

Carrie pffted and stared out the window into the darkness.

"I felt for you Carrie," Aasar continued softly. "Sympathy when they drugged you."

"So why did you turn a blind eye to Tasneem helping Haqqani?" she hissed.

"You're making a lot of assumptions Carrie," Aasar bit his lip. "All this shop talk. I thought we were going out to have some fun?"

"Yeah…?" She shook her head. "Well I changed my mind. Stop the car."

"Don't be ridiculous," protested Aasar.

"I'll get a cab."

"Let me take you home," he begged.

"Aasar… Just…" she shouted. "Tell the driver to stop the car."

"No. I'm not abandoning you alone in the city," Aasar tried to calm her. "If you get out, I'm coming with you."

"Oh, what a gentleman." Carrie mocked.

"Carrie… OK… Let's forget about having any form of civilised conversation." Aasar gave up. "You go home, but I'm dropping you off."

"Stop the…" Carrie began, but slumped backwards as Aasar relayed her precise address to the driver.

"I don't like that at all," Carrie hissed. "You knowing my address."

Aasar exhaled, dejected. Further tormented by the passing traffic intermittently illuminating Carrie's furious profile. He'd come all this way and he'd fucked it up within minutes.


	2. His Wife

Carrie scurried to the door as soon as she heard the first gentle knock.

"It's three A.M, Carrie," The man shuffled inside. "Couldn't this have waited until morning?"

"It is morning," Carrie hissed, then swallowed guiltily. "I'm sorry. It's important. He's leaving soon."

"Are you going to kill him?" Max whispered, a gleam in his eye. "If you are, I'll help you."

"What?!" Carrie spluttered. "No! Of course not."

"But you think the Colonel was involved, right?" Max's voice trembled. "He was in on the Embassy attack with Haqqani?"

"No, Max. No… No. Not at all." Carrie rubbed her forehead. "Aasar would never…"

"First name…" Max simmered. "You're on first name terms with them?"

"That's enough Max!" Carrie snapped at him, "Aasar might be able to help us get justice for Fara."

Max was silent. Momentarily paralysed by her loss that he still felt so acutely.

"Please Max…" Carrie squeezed his shoulder. "Find out where Aasar's staying and drive me there."

"Can't you drive yourself?" Max grumbled.

"I had a few drinks last night… you better drive." Carrie grimaced as she recalled slamming the door of Aasar's SUV and stomping through her front door without looking back. She had half expected him to follow her. Half hoped, but the SUV had sped away.

"Okay…" Max sighed as he unfolded his laptop. "Give me a few minutes… Where's little Franny? Is she okay?"

"Sleepover at Maggie's," Carrie smiled. "She's doing great." She'd noticed that Max always asked about Franny, but he never mentioned Quinn.

…

An hour later

"You're certain there's no security guards?" Carrie checked Max's information again. "Nothing outside his room?"

"Nope," Max shrugged. "As far as the hotel is concerned, he's just a regular guest. He's using a British passport."

"This should be easy then," Carrie grinned hopefully. "I'll walk straight in."

"Do you want me to wait in the parking lot for you?" Max clutched the steering wheel.

"No, I'll be fine," Carrie bit her lip, a flutter of anticipation as she glanced at the hotel entrance. "Thanks Max. Go home. Get some sleep."

"I could come in with you," Max gestured. "Talk to him about Fara and…"

"Max, I can handle it," Carrie tried to maintain her patience. "I'll call you later."

…

Within minutes Carrie was at the front desk collecting a key for Aasar's hotel room. All thanks to Max hacking into their booking system and making a few significant changes. She glimpsed her reflection in the mirrored wall. Perfect. A glamorous, if slightly dishevelled partygoer arriving back in the early hours.

"There you go, Mrs Khan," the blonde Receptionist oozed politeness and discretion as he checked the system. "If you find the misplaced keycard, just hand it in here."

"Thanks for your help… Sven," Carrie smiled, leaning forward to display a hint of cleavage within her little black dress. "Can you remind me…"

"Breakfast is served between seven and nine thirty." Sven's cheeks turned pink. "In the main restaurant."

"Thank you so much," Carrie stepped away, relieved to spot the sign for the elevator. Sven hadn't provided directions to Aasar's room like she'd hoped, but she'd figure it out herself. She wondered if she'd still be there for breakfast.

…

Room 207. Carrie paused momentarily. She imagined Aasar sleeping. Wondered how she'd wake him.

"Hi Honey! I pretended to be your wife and sneaked into your room…" Then what?

I'm here to get intel. She reminded herself sharply, halting her train of thought which had strayed to slipping into bed alongside him. I've got to find out what's happening. Is Saul doing deals with Haqqani, or planning to obliterate him?

Carrie wondered if Quinn would approve of her getting involved. He wanted out. Quinn wanted her to get out too… or so he said, before he'd swanned off on another mission. What had Astrid said about him wanting out every so often? Carrie pouted recalling how Quinn had hidden out at Astrid's before escaping from Islamabad. They'd have fucked of course. She wondered if she was feeling a twinge of jealousy?

She smirked remembering Quinn's jealous tantrum when she had been recruiting Aayan. It wasn't Aayan he should have been worried about. She might have had sex with Aayan, but it was Aasar she'd built an intimate trust with. With their discreet rendezvous and secret calls. The realisation hit how much she missed those shared, secluded moments of calm with him.

As Carrie slipped the keycard into the door, she knew she had to get Aasar to talk. She'd missed an opportunity earlier. She needed to get some useful intel out of him before he left for Pakistan.

…

Carrie blinked as she moved forwards in the darkness and debated flicking the light switch on. What am I doing? I should have just knocked. Or called him… She fumbled for her phone and the screen illuminated the king-size bed. It was empty.

Carrie writhed as she felt a firm hand from behind cover her mouth. Her cries muffled when she felt a cold jab against her spine. She felt his breath heavy on her neck. She wriggled, her protestations indistinct. After a few moments she felt his breathing move and linger against her hair. The thrust from the gun taken away quickly.

"What are you doing here?" Aasar whispered, maintaining the pressure over her mouth. "Will you scream if I move my hand?"

Carrie shook her head, tasting the warmth from his palm. She heard a thud and guessed he'd discarded his gun onto the desk. She felt his hand pat gently over her abdomen and down her thighs. "I'm not armed," she croaked as he finally lifted his hand off her mouth.

"Sit down," Aasar shoved her towards the bed and leaned to switch on a lamp. "I hope you can explain this intrusion!"

Carrie gingerly touched her mouth as her eyes gradually adjusted to the light. Her bleary gaze registering Aasar's black boxer shorts.

"I'm sorry I frightened you." Aasar was seemingly oblivious to his attire as he assessed Carrie's appearance. He reached for her tender lower lip and gently traced the curve with his finger. "Are you hurt?"

"It's okay," Carrie moved away from his electric touch which had transmuted the discomfort into an entirely different sensation. "I'm fine. I'm the one who should be apologising."

"Let me get you some ice," Aasar stood up and strode across to the mini-bar. "It'll stop the swelling."

"Aasar, it's fine," Carrie protested weakly, distracted by his muscular thighs as he returned with some ice cubes in a tumbler and tenderly held one against her lip.

"Oh," she flinched at the numbing chill of the ice contrasted by his burning fingers.

The ice began melting rapidly, a couple of rivulets trickling over her chin which Aasar wiped away with his other hand. Their eyes aligned momentarily and he mischievously pressed the remainder of the ice cube with his thumb. It parted her lips and bumped coolly against her teeth. Carrie opened her mouth fractionally wider, swirling her tongue against the tip of his thumb.

Aasar inhaled, his eyes gleaming as he let his thumb linger in her mouth for a few moments.

"Why are you here Carrie?" Aasar coolly pulled his hand away as if nothing had happened. "Hoping I'll tell you about Saul's plan?"

Carrie's heart was thumping. Aasar's face was deadpan. He was saying one thing, but the straining in his boxer shorts was telling her a very different story. She was completely disconcerted and began rambling. "I came to apologise for abandoning you earlier. I was angry. Rude. I was cross with Saul really… Not you. I'm still really…"

"You were annoyed with me," Aasar interjected shrugging, no self-conciousness that he was standing there in just his underpants. "You had every right to be… but why this… Why sneak in here like this?"

"Aasar… Let's talk when you've put some clothes on." Carrie swallowed. "It's too hard. I mean I can't think straight."

"I was hoping to go back to sleep once you've explained yourself." Aasar's dark eyes twinkled as he climbed into bed. He pulled the white cotton sheet up to his neck. "Is that better?" He pulled it higher, hiding his head completely. "Or this? Am I decent? Can we talk now?"

"Aasar…" Carrie pouted, then giggled as he peeped over the hem at her.

Aasar laughed loudly then smiled at her. "How did you get in here, Carrie?"

"I used a key," Carrie shrugged. "Sven on Reception gave it to me. He thought I was your wife."

"My wife…" Aasar considered this. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope after all.


End file.
